


Fire Into Rain

by smalltrolven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Blood Magic, M/M, None - Freeform, re-established relationship, season 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-13 06:55:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11179428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smalltrolven/pseuds/smalltrolven
Summary: Turns out there are still dragons, Sam and Dean find that out the hard way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not my characters, only my words. Written for the 2017 [](http://wincest-reverse.livejournal.com/profile)[wincest_reverse](http://wincest-reverse.livejournal.com/) bang, for prompt 24, [](http://loracine.livejournal.com/profile)[loracine](http://loracine.livejournal.com/) s fabulous illustration gave me the chance to finally write some dragon!fic. Thanks for the great beta advice, [](http://soyem.livejournal.com/profile)[soyem](http://soyem.livejournal.com/), especially for corralling all, my, commas.

  
  
****

  
Be sure to go check out the[Art Masterpost.](http://loracine.livejournal.com/33454.html)

|~~^—^~~|

“Virgin sacrifices, Sammy, c’mon it’s gotta be a dragon, right?” Dean asked as he waved what was left of the dragon slaying sword towards his brother.

“Fine, you want to bring that thing, I’m not stopping you,” Sam said with a shrug and duck of his head that hopefully hid his bemusement. Dean would be even more insufferable if he knew how Sam really felt seeing him wielding that sword again.

“It’s only a little busted. Hey, it worked before when we needed to kill those dragons, right?”

“Dude, it’s obvious you want to play dragon-slayer again, bring the damn thing, like I said, I’m not stopping you. But we need to get going,” Sam said.

“Well, go get in the damn car already, we’re outta here, virgins are being sacrificed, there are dragons to be slaying!” Dean shouted as he stomped down the hall into the garage waving the stubby sword.

Sam shook his head at his brother, vowing yet again to try to limit his re-watches of Game of Thrones.

“From Lebanon to Lebanon, door to door ought to be about six hours, maybe seven if we stop at that diner with the buttermilk pecan pie you liked,” Dean said over the starting roar of the Impala.

“Now that would be worth stopping for again,” Sam said, surprised with a sudden warm feeling because Dean remembered something like that.

Sam settled into his worn-in spot in the passenger seat and flicked through the memory of sitting in that particular diner with his brother across from him. He could still feel how their feet had tangled together under the table. It had been one of the first, if not the first time, they’d gone out in public after finally giving in to the inevitable. It was a heady time when they hadn’t hunted too much because the distraction had overwhelmed them for days at a time.

Feeling a wave of emotion coming towards him, Sam squirmed around until he was facing away from Dean. He looked out the window at the fields flashing past and thought about how many years it was now. How long since they’d…he’d almost managed to make himself forget how good it was having that part of their hunting life to look forward to, almost, but not quite.

Sam looked over at Dean, bopping his head to the beat of the Ozzy song on the radio, oblivious to the turmoil roiling through his little brother and let himself smile, big and wide. The memory of how good it could be between them when they got it right was everything he still longed for. With a little worry about opening himself up to more heartbreak, he let the hope that it could be that way again flow through him.

|~~^—^~~|

The actual number of the caves in the Mark Twain National Forest were uncounted, but there were more than three-hundred in the map database Sam had been using. They already knew from interviewing the witnesses that the girls had been abducted within a pretty short range. Two were in day-hiking parties, and a third had been staying overnight with her family in one of the lookout campsites. That cut down the number of caves they had to explore to five.

Sam had eliminated the caves that had the smallest cave entrances because of what they knew about the human form that dragons could take. He was guessing it would have to be tall enough for an average male to be able to enter when carrying another human body.

“Good thing we don’t have claustrophobia, this one is smaller than the other two,” Dean joked as he headed into the third cave of the day.

“Sssh,” Sam whispered, pointing down one of the rounded cave tunnels where a yellow-green glow flickered on the arching walls.

Dean drew his sword stub and flicked off his flashlight. They crept up to the entrance and heard a deep male voice chanting inside, the strange words echoing around the space, bouncing off all the exposed rock. Dean pointed to the other side of the entrance and Sam stepped over quickly to see if he could get a visual on their suspect.

The words stopped as suddenly as if a switch had been flipped. The chartreuse glow flared blindingly bright as Sam was yanked forward into the smaller room of the cave by an unseen force. Dean grabbed at his brother’s arm, but whatever was pulling Sam away was so much stronger. Dean followed close behind and slashed at the hulking man he could now see holding his brother. The man screamed as the sword stub plunged into his chest, but he still managed to hold Sam with one arm while he shoved Dean with unexpected force with the other.

Dean felt the hit deep in his chest, then all he knew was a short flight through the Purgatory-scented air back into the tunnel, ending in darkness as his head made contact with the opposite wall.

What Dean saw when he resurfaced to consciousness was at first hard to quantify or even understand. The man he’d stabbed with the sword was obviously dead, lying on the cave floor in a puddle of yellow-green goo that shimmered and shined. That much he got, good, the bad guy was dead. But Sam was up there on the ceiling. Wait… ** _up_** there?

Near the apex of the cave ceiling, maybe fifty feet high, his brother hovered, his enormous leathery wings beating steadily, moving the air in a breeze Dean could feel on his skin. Wings, his brother had freakin’ wings! Sam’s body was unchanged besides the wings, a few tatters of his shirt hung around his neck. His face looked serene, almost peaceful, and that worried Dean more than the damn wings, more than anything.

“Sammy, get the hell down here!” Dean yelled as he struggled to his feet.

Sam’s head turned and his eyes flared an impossibly brilliant chartreuse for a moment as they locked onto Dean. Then Sam was diving towards him, wings tucked-in, mouth open wide in an inhuman scream, hands reaching out to grab him. Dean rolled away out of Sam’s grasp, crashing into the girl they’d been searching for. He scooped her up and ran, hoping that the dragon or whatever it was Sam had turned into couldn’t follow through the small tunnel with those giant wings.

He could feel the wind generated from Sam’s wings beating at him as he raced down the tunnel, the girl in his arms moaning at being jostled. At least she was still alive, maybe this would end up being worth it. Then Sam roared again, unearthly loud and seeming to be right in his ear.

Dean burst out into the late afternoon light and dove to one side of the cave entrance. Sam flew past him and in a few beats of his wings he was up above the tree-line, soaring away into the cloudless sky. Dean screamed his brother’s name even though it was pointless, Sam was long gone, and he was a dragon.

|~~^—^~~|

Once the still-unconscious girl was dropped off at the closest emergency room, Dean sped back to the cave to examine what was left behind. Maybe there would be some clue about what the dragon-man was doing with all that chanting and the series of girls. Most of all, he needed to know how the hell Sam had been turned. As far as the lore went, becoming a dragon wasn’t a thing like a were-animal situation, you had to be born one. And Sam was definitely not born a dragon. Sam might have had the whole demon-blood thing done to him, but that wasn’t dragon related, right?

The dragon-man’s body had fallen apart in the hour he’d been gone, a pile of pulp tinged that now too-familiar sickly yellow-green. He dug through the piles of victim’s clothing left around the cave, searching for anything that might be useful to track Sam down. Finally, under the dragon man’s coat he found what looked like a rudimentary altar, a burned-out candle and a plate with offerings of human body parts arranged carefully and at the center of it all, a book like the one they’d found back when they’d been hunting Eve. Remembering how the other book had been bound in human skin, he wrapped a kerchief around his hand and picked the book up and tucked it into his jacket pocket.

He leaned over the remnants of the dragon-man and pulled the sword stub out of the mess. He wiped it off on the man’s coat and tucked it back into his scabbard. Dean did not let himself think about the possibility of having to use it on his brother, instead he told himself he owed it to Professor Visayak to keep track of the thing. He looked around the walls with the flashlight one last time and saw a small sigil over the doorway that glistened in red blood mixed with the dragon’s own. He snapped a picture of it with his cell, hoping it would be useful in his research.

On his way out of the cave, he tripped over something; it was the flashlight Sam had been using. The one with the ridiculous Superman stickers on it that he’d bought for his brother at the last gas station they’d stopped at that morning in Climax Springs.

Dean leaned against the wall of the cave and tried to steady himself with the memory of the last conversation they’d had over those damn pink coconut frosted snowballs Sam always chose when it was his turn to pick their road-trip snacks.

“Climax Springs, Sammy, gotta love that name, huh? Bet they get a lot of honeymooners stayin’ here,” Dean had said through a crumbly mouthful of coconut cake.

Sam had chuckled and smiled that blinding bright grin, pink frosting caught in the corner of his mouth, his tongue flashing out to lap it up.

Dean’s breath had caught then, knowing he wasn’t hiding the desire he’d always feel, but they hadn’t connected in so long. Then Sam was leaning across the seat between them, kissing him slow and perfect.

“After the case, we need to talk, okay?” Sam had murmured into his mouth, sealing the words in with another kiss that had turned Dean’s insides to jelly.

Before Dean could get it together enough to kiss him back, Sam had sat back in his seat and fastened his seatbelt. With a sigh that felt impossibly light Dean had driven them the rest of the way to Lebanon, Missouri.

Remembering the possibility of what he’d been missing for years made him smile, an unfamiliar hope growing again in his heart. It had been so hard, having Sam right there in the fight next to him, but not having all of him like he used to. All of that seemed to be, somehow, incredibly, against all the odds, possible again. Sam’s kiss had promised that. Dean growled quietly, the sound echoing through the empty cave, vowing to himself that he’d do everything it took to get Sam back. Just for the chance to return Sam’s kiss like he should have that morning.

|~~^—^~~|

_Flying._

_Up above._

_Beat of wings, beat of heart, rhythm of the world turning beneath him._

_No fear, no worry, just the hunt._

_That reminded him of something, of someone…_

_No, there was only the hunt._

_He shook his head and dove down from the sky, wind rushing past his ear holes until he forgot again._

_Flying._

_Up above._

|~~^—^~~|

  
The drive back to their Lebanon in Kansas, to their home as Sam had recently started calling it, took less time because Dean didn’t stop at that diner with the awesome pecan pie. He couldn’t bear it without Sam being there with him. The whole time he drove he kept touching his lips where Sam had kissed him that morning. The memory of it would have to keep him going until he got the real thing back.

The bunker’s filing system was complicated, and he was glad he’d paid attention when Sam had been patient enough to keep explaining it to him until he really got it down. The section on dragon lore was pretty sparse, but there was a language decoder chart he found in the index of one folio that helped explain the writing in the book he’d taken from the dragon’s den. If he’d translated it correctly, the guy had been in the midst of a last-ditch attempt to bring another dragon soul back from Purgatory. Dean guessed he was probably lonely or something since they’d killed those other dragons when Eve was making her comeback a few years ago.

That meant that the dragon soul being resurrected from Purgatory had gone into Sam somehow when they’d interrupted the virgin sacrifice. The dragon man had been trying to put the soul into the girl that Dean had managed to save. Then they’d probably have been able to re-populate the Earth with dragons. That plan was foiled at least, but he was still minus one brother. Who was a dragon, probably the very last one in the world.

|~~^—^~~|

_Flying._

_Up above._

_Searching for a home._

_Somewhere deep and dark._

_Just a home to call his own._

_That reminded him of something, of some place, someone…home._

_He had a home, somewhere, with someone._

_He shook his head and dove down from the sky, wind rushing past his ear holes until he forgot again._

_Flying._

_Up above._

|~~^—^~~|

It took days of searching, too many days, but Dean had finally found it, the wing-glider contraption the Men of Letters inventory had promised. In the leather satchel he found a small instruction manual with the enchantment to activate the wings, along with an exhaustive list of cautions he didn’t bother to fully read. He ran down the hall from the storeroom, arms full of the wings and ingredients for the spell he’d need to cast at midnight. Luckily they knew an angel, because one of the spell requirements was an angel feather and Cas had left behind a few over the years. He’d always teased Sam for keeping them, calling him an angel-fanboy, but it turned out they could be really useful in spell work.

He dumped everything on his bed and dressed in many layers for the cold, because it would be much colder if he managed to make it up high into the sky. That was of course, if the wings actually worked.

Dean sat at his desk and checked over the page in the dragon-man’s book he’d found that had a short spell to capture a dragon’s soul. He would have to draw the symbol from the cave somewhere on Sam’s skin with a mixture of his own blood and several herbs. The small bottle he’d already prepared was in his zipped jacket pocket along with one more of Cas’ feathers. It wasn’t in the spell instructions, where it just said to use a feather quill, but Dean figured it couldn’t hurt to use an angel feather. The vessel for the dragon soul was a small, lidded iron cauldron that he clipped onto his belt. He’d inscribed the same symbol on the inside that he’d be marking onto Sam’s skin.

The last thing Dean needed to do before he tried flying was to cast the dragon locator spell that he’d found in the dragon-man’s book. It energized an object that would act as a sort of compass to point you towards the nearest dragon. Since Sam was likely the only dragon in the world, it would hopefully point him in the right direction once he got himself airborne. The sky was a big place with no roads or signs, and he needed something to narrow down which way to head to find his brother.

The dragon locator instructions involved casting a spell on a wearable object that was flexible, something on a chain or cord was shown in the illustration. He dug through his box of keepsakes and found his old amulet buried where he’d stashed it so he wouldn’t have to look at it too much. He still couldn’t deal with the reminder of how he’d failed Sam, how his brother had kept it anyway. That and how it had glowed when Chuck had finally shown up. They’d never talked about it, Sam hadn’t asked for it back, so Dean had tucked it away along with the emotions and memories it held. The spell was an easy one, and he was glad to see the small brass face twist and turn at the end of the cord, finally coming to hold steady in one direction.

“Sammy, I’m comin’ for you, now that I know which way to go,” he said into the still air of the too-empty Bunker. He tied the cord of the amulet around his wrist, securing it tightly with several knots that he would need a knife to undo.

He thought about how Sam’s shirt had been destroyed by the dragon wings he’d sprouted. According to the lore, he would likely be full dragon by now, which meant he’d need some clothes to wear while they made the trip home. Luckily there were some of Sam’s clothes in the dryer so he didn’t have to make himself go through his dresser. Something about disturbing his brother’s things didn’t seem right. Not when he was a dragon. He didn’t want to think about that though, he swore at himself, stuffing the clothes into a small backpack that he’d have to wear on his front. The wings were going to take up all of his back, they were almost as tall as he was.

All that was left then was the waiting until midnight. Time seemed to crawl as he sat at his desk, staring at the symbol that would bring Sam back to him and drank a last glass of whisky. The pictures that Sam had used to break him out of his Mark of Cain rage were spread out on the desk. He studied them over and over, remembering Sam’s words about love, how they would help him remember how to love, that he was loved.

Tears started to come again, and he let himself shed them this time. He could die trying this flying thing tonight, and Sam would be a dragon forever. He’d be alone in the Empty without Sam, forever. That wasn’t how it was supposed to end. Not for them, not after what they’d done and sacrificed for this damn world. Chuck had practically promised them when he said he was right for making them soul mates. He finished his whisky and wrote Sam a note, just in case.

_Dear Sammy,_

_I’m taking off after you tonight, with these wings I found in the storeroom, they’re supposed to work, angel feather powered and everything. Then all I have to do is find your dragon ass and write this symbol thing on you with my blood. No big deal, right? Piece of cake._

_In case something goes wrong, and you end up back here because the wings didn’t work or you ate me or something, I just want to tell you something I never said before. And I’m sorry for not ever saying it out loud to you. I should have a long time ago. But here goes: You are the best part of my life, being with you makes it worth being alive._

_I love you, Sammy, no matter what, and that’s  a forever kind of thing, so I know I’ll see you wherever it is we end up next._

_Love, Dean._

|~~^—^~~|

_Flying._

_Up above._

_Beat of wings, beat of heart, rhythm of the world turning beneath him._

_No fear, no worry, just the hunt._

_That reminded him of something, of someone…the hunt._

_He shook his head and dove down from the sky, wind rushing past his ear holes until he forgot again._

_Flying._

_Up above._

|~~^—^~~|


	2. Chapter 2

|~~^—^~~|

He stood on the roof of the Bunker as it neared midnight, ready to cast the spell on the wing contraption. Dean checked over the ingredients and re-read the words for the thousandth time. His watch went off with the alarm for midnight. He silenced the alarm and started the spell, the words rolling off his tongue easily, the power of the spell gathering as soon as the herbs in the vessel ignited. He poured the burning mixture over the wings wondering again how they weren’t going to just burn up when there was a flash of familiar green-gold light and the wings levitated off the tile roof under his feet. He grabbed at them before they could float off on their own and strapped them onto his own back. He could feel something attach itself into the muscles of his back, like it was spreading the muscles apart, setting in deep hooks so his body could control them. There was no blood, though it seemed like there should be, instead there was a whole lot of pain. 

He grimaced and steadied himself to jump off the roof. “Here I come, Sammy, ready or not.”

He plummeted face-first towards the ground, but then the wings extended, caught the air and what do you know, the wings worked, they actually fucking worked! He practiced turning and changing his elevation up and down, getting the hang of controlling something his muscles weren’t used to. After a few minutes he felt like he had got the hang of it, like his body always wanted to do this, soar and dip and dive through the air. All those flying dreams he’d had over the years, and now he was finally doing it for real.

After a few hours the fun had worn off, flying was so much harder than he had thought it would be, and it sure wasn’t all smooth gliding and soaring. Finding Sam was harder still, even with the dragon locater. He had wrapped the amulet’s cord securely around his wrist and it steadily pointed in one direction, north-east, only varying by a few degrees. So that had to mean that Sam was on the move.

Dean was surprised that Sam wasn’t clear across the country by now. He first saw him about fifty miles away from the Bunker. They were somewhere in those hills that had the limestone caves that they’d never had the time to explore. He was absolutely beautiful, the dark leathery wings seemed polished as they caught the sunlight and he dove through the low clouds, elegant and powerful. The rest of his body had been transformed, he even had a long tail now that ended in a wicked barb. 

The enormous thing flying below him was all dragon. But somehow it was Sam too. There wasn’t any doubt of it, the amulet tugging hard at his wrist pulling him towards his brother, who was a dragon.

Dean tried his best to catch up, but Sam ducked and dived, eluding him. It was almost like he knew he was being chased. Sam would have to know that he’d come after him, right? He called out Sam’s name, loud and pleading, hoping there was some part of his brother left inside the dragon he’d become.

|~~^—^~~|

_Flying._

_Up above._

_Beat of wings, beat of heart, rhythm of the world turning beneath him._

_No fear, no worry, just the hunt._

_Something, no someone follows him now._

_He is no longer the hunted he growls to himself._

_Turning in a wide arc through the clouds he tricks his pursuer._

_Coming back underneath it, ready to go in for the kill._

_Flying._

_Up above._

|~~^—^~~|

He had lost sight of Sam in the clouds a few minutes ago but he wasn’t too worried. He was guessing Sam was probably denned-up in one of the caves he knew were down below. Finding the right cave would be the problem. He flew back and forth over the scrubby forested hills, searching the ground and the skies for signs of his brother. 

_My brother, the dragon sounds like a good kid’s book title_ he mused, attention wavering for a moment picturing Sam drawn like a dragon in a children’s book. A whooshing sound of large wings snapped him out of it, just in time to dive out of the way. Sam tore past him, screaming that awful cry he’d made back in the tunnel where they’d saved the girl. The rough end of his tail raked across Dean’s cheek cutting it deeply.

Dean dove down through the sky after his brother and followed him into one of the well-hidden caves. He bounced off the narrowing tunnel walls and landed as quietly as he could manage. He pulled the crank to fold up the wings behind him with a shuffling clack. He could hear Sam’s footsteps and strange noises in a cave room up ahead, a muttering growl that almost sounded like words. He approached quietly readying the spell that would supposedly stun a dragon. Everything in him hoped for it to work, to knock Sam out long enough to get that dragon soul out of him.

Dean began saying the words out loud in the strongest voice he could manage. The whole flight there he’d been practicing the strange phrase, it had begun to feel like clockwork catching and biting on his tongue. With one last deep breath he stepped into the cave. Sam must have heard him coming because he instantly lunged at him. Hands that were now claws, outstretched before him, sharp curved nails reaching out to kill. Sam was screaming an inhuman cry that shook Dean to his bones. He kept saying the words though, like a mantra he had put all his faith in, because that’s what it was. The only way he’d get Sam back were these words and what came next.

He reluctantly put one hand on the hilt of the sword stub tucked in his waistband. Dean dove out of the way to avoid Sam’s attack and finished the words of the spell. A green-gold mist appeared in a bubble around Sam’s enormous dragon head, his eyes rolled up showing their whites and he fell to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut. Dean caught his brother’s head at the last moment before it had a chance to hit the cave floor. He shuffled Sam’s and his own wing tips out of the way and sat cross-legged with Sam’s head cradled in his lap.

He scrabbled at his waist for the small iron cauldron with fingers still stiff from the cold. Unclipping it, he set the cauldron on the cave floor next to a completely limp Sam. Still holding Sam’s head in his lap, he yanked up the remaining tatters of his brother’s shirts to reveal his chest. Even beneath the dragon scales the skin was still marked with the scar of where his anti-possession tattoo had been. With a shaking hand Dean drew the dragon symbol on Sam’s cold skin with one of Cas’ feathers. He watched as his own blood soaked into Sam’s skin incredibly quickly, it was like his brother’s body had needed it to survive. 

After a few moments where Dean thought nothing had worked, Sam screamed that dragon cry again, his whole body gone rigid, but his eyes were still closed. Sam wasn’t just waking up, he was fighting inside himself against the dragon soul. 

“C’mon Sammy, kick the asshole out, I know you can do it,” Dean said, hands gently moving over the scales covering Sam’s head where his hair should be. He knew it was all up to his brother at this point, but if anyone could kick a dragon soul out of his mind it was Sam. He’d kicked the Devil himself out, so he could do it, he had to.

Sam screamed one last dragon cry and arched his back almost past the point he should be able to. His wings and tail unfurled on last time and disappeared with a puff of yellow-green steam. A stream of chartreuse colored foggy mist exited his mouth in a high-arching gout that seemed to be magnetically pulled back down into the waiting cauldron. Dean slammed the lid on it once all of it had been contained.

In his lap, Sam moaned weakly, his eyes fluttered open looking up into Dean’s. “Dean?”

“Welcome back, Sammy,” Dean said, leaning down to brush a kiss against his forehead, one hand carding through Sam’s wind-tangled hair. He couldn’t believe how much it meant that Sam’s hair was back again so that he could have a chance to touch it.

Sam’s bare arms came up around him and held him there, his fingers clutched in Dean’s jackets like he was holding on for life. Dean held his newly transformed, naked brother. He was filled with thankfulness that there were no wings or tail in the way, except for the wings still on his own back.

|~~^—^~~|

  
  
Sam slowly removed the remaining bits of the original clothes he’d been wearing. He pulled on the new clothes Dean had brought for him, thanking all the deities that his brother had thought things through enough to be prepared for his nakedness. They walked out of the cave together, Dean supporting Sam the whole way with an arm firmly around his waist. Sam breathed in huge gulps of the cool night air, so fresh after the rankness of the cave.

“Shit,” Dean said, stopping them both abruptly. “We’re in the middle of freakin’ nowhere.”

“Guess you can come back and pick me up with the car later,” Sam said with a laugh when he realized that Dean was now the only one who had wings. He wasn’t too thrilled about having to let go of Dean so soon though. Not now that he was finally back in Dean’s arms, feeling more himself than he had in years.

“No way am I leaving you here in the middle of the night. What if you turn back into a dragon or another one comes?” Dean pulled Sam in closer.

Sam let Dean hold him, reveling in the closeness, in Dean not wanting to let him go. He turned so he faced Dean and wrapped Dean up in a his own arms. “Think you can hold my weight with these things?” Sam asked, tugging at the wings on his brother’s back.

“Guess we’ll know in a second here,” Dean said, tightening his arms around Sam’s shoulders. With Sam wrapped up in his arms and legs, and Sam holding on securely around his waist, Dean jumped up into the sky. 

It was a strange feeling being flown through the air instead of doing the flying himself. Sam liked how it felt though, safe in the protection of his brother’s body. He nuzzled his face into Dean’s neck and closed his eyes, concentrating on the familiar smell. Trying to forget ever having his own wings and the instincts of a dragon.

Landing on the Bunker roof, they didn’t separate for a long moment. Sam let himself stay in the circle of Dean’s arms, not wanting to step away, maybe not ever. 

“Welcome home, Sammy,” Dean said, raising up on his tiptoes to brush his lips against Sam’s. His arms snaked up around Sam’s neck and pulled him down into the kiss. They lost themselves in the feeling, so achingly familiar but new again after all these years. There was so much that they had held back that it was almost overwhelming. 

Dean finally pushed himself away with a groan. “I gotta get these wings off, before the sun comes up,” Dean said.

“Oh yeah, what happens at sunrise?” Sam asked.

“Uh—I’m pretty sure they’re permanent or something,” Dean said, digging through his pockets for the wing owner’s manual.

“What the hell, Dean!” Sam exclaimed, “Why would you risk something like that?”

“That might be the dumbest thing I’ve heard all day, and that includes all your dragon screaming,” Dean mumbled with a smile as he found the right page. 

Dean crouched down over the ritual bowl and poured the ingredients into it, slicing into his hand yet again for the required blood. The words practically tripped off his tongue until the green-gold light flashed. He screamed as the wings unhooked themselves from his body, pulling their tendrils out of his muscles and ripping away from his nerve endings. He came back to himself cradled in Sam’s arms in a heap.

“You okay, Dean?” Sam asked, a gentle hand stroking against Dean’s cheek near a nasty wound. “You have a bad cut here on your cheek.”

Dean pressed into the contact and opened his eyes. “That was from your tail. My—the wings—are they?”

“Yeah, they’re gone, burned up into ash when they dropped away from your back.”

“Guess we’re not flying anytime soon again, huh?” Dean asked.

“I think I’m okay with that,” Sam said with a pained laugh.

They helped each other stand up and headed back down into the Bunker. It was awkward, not knowing what came next. There were so many rooms and they weren’t stuck in a one-room motel together. That had always made this part easier for Sam. He wondered if he should follow Dean to his, or what? Dean was still holding his arm, he hadn’t let go yet, but Sam wasn’t sure what that meant.

“I need to uh…go wash it all off of me,” Sam said, realizing then how sticky and gross he felt all over. No matter what was happening next, he needed to get cleaned up first.

“Okay,” Dean said with a nod, dropping his hand away.

Sam started walking towards the bathroom, to see if Dean would follow. “You coming or what?” Sam said over his shoulder, hoping that it wasn’t too soon, or too much, or who even knew anymore. Without a word, Dean’s hand was back on him, curving around his waist and steering him towards the bathroom.

They undressed each other slowly, carefully, running their hands over bare skin as it appeared. Dean was finally naked, all except for the amulet tied around his wrist when Sam picked it up and brought it to his lips. “What’s this here for?”

“It was how I found you, there was a dragon locator spell, had to charm something with it. I thought it might know how to find you, hoped there was maybe even a bonus left over from Chuck.”

Sam kissed at the cord wrapped around Dean’s pulse, tongue licking out at Dean’s skin and sucking on the amulet briefly, the familiar burst of brass on his tongue making his insides go hot and possessive. “I like seeing it on you again,” Sam said.

“Yeah?” Dean asked with an audible swallow.

Sam didn’t answer, he just pulled Dean into one of the shower stalls and started up the water to as hot as he knew they could stand it. He answered Dean’s question with his lips and tongue and teeth, taking him apart under the cascade of water until Dean was left stunned and sated leaning against the tiles, his body marked with the signs of Sam’s possession and adoration. Sam couldn’t believe how beautiful his brother was like this. _All mine again_.

“I always was, Sammy,” Dean said.

Sam blushed because he didn’t know he’d said that out loud. It happened sometimes when they were in the middle of the passion, words were said, but they hardly ever commented. That meant Dean needed the words this time, another first time for them. “I know, Dean. I was always yours too.”

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam in an iron-strong grip, his biceps flexing as he turned them so Sam was against the tile wall. He sank to his knees and looked up at Sam. “Mine,” he said, biting at the jut of Sam’s hipbone. 

Sam’s hand curved around the back of Dean’s head and brought him even closer. Dean’s hands clenched and flexed on Sam’s thighs, pulling them apart a little further to give himself room. He gently sucked Sam’s balls one at a time, licking behind them in that spot that always made Sam shiver. Then he slowly licked his way up to the tip of Sam’s hardness. Sam’s fingers shifted in Dean’s hair and his brother looked up again at him, lips wrapped around him so perfectly.

Dean’s eyes never left his as he sucked him in deeply. His tears from going too fast washed away in the shower spray.

“Dean,” Sam barely managed to say, grasping at the back of Dean’s head and holding him in place as he let himself go. The pleasure intensified with Dean’s groan at taking his release inside.

Sam pulled Dean back up and touched him everywhere at once, never wanting to stop. He kissed Dean, frantic for the taste of himself in his brother’s mouth again. He never thought he’d have this, and he’d almost lost it all, being a dragon, never coming back, never having Dean again.

Dean slowed them down, kissing him more gently, hands soothing circles on his shoulders and back, and Sam finally was able to relax.

“Sorry, thought I’d be like that forever,” Sam mumbled into Dean’s shoulder.

“What, a dragon?” Dean asked.

“No, not just that, but away from you,” Sam said, regretting saying the words out loud.

Dean looked at him then, serious and beautiful under the endless hot water, finally in his arms again. “Sammy, you’re never gonna be able to get rid of me that easily, you oughta know that by now.”

Sam couldn’t process that huge chunk of honesty so he just kissed Dean again, then turned off the shower. They toweled off and Dean let him bandage the cut on his cheek. Sam took the time to shave, and couldn’t help examining his skin closely in the mirror. He had to touch his cheeks and neck to make sure there were no longer any scales. 

He came back to himself with Dean’s fingers caressing the skin and murmuring, “C’mon, let’s go to bed.”

When they headed down the hall to Dean’s room, Sam was still mulling over what Dean had said. Neither of them talked as they slipped under the covers on the sides of the bed they’d always taken before. 

Sam found himself snuggled into the familiar space Dean left for him, head on his shoulder, arm over Dean’s middle, legs wrapped up and it was good again. Unbelievably good, and such a surprise he wasn’t sure it was really happening.

“Tell me what happened,” Sam finally said, “I don’t remember anything really after we went into that cave.”

“The dragon dude grabbed you and I stabbed him with the sword. I guess the dragon soul just took you over. I came to and you had wings and flew out of the cave, it was wild. There was one girl that was still alive, I got her out.”

“I must have a sign on me somewhere that says, open, come on in,” Sam said.

“That’s how I knew you could kick that dragon soul out, no problem once I figured out how. You’ve done it before with angels and demons, this was only a dragon.”

“It felt really different from that, maybe because of the physical transformation part of it. But being here now, I miss it, the flying. Do you?”

“I didn’t do it for as long as you, but yeah, I do,” Dean answered, “it was better than I’d ever dreamed it could be.”

“Wish there was another pair of those wings,” Sam said.

“Have you already forgotten what a bitch it was to get them off of me?” Dean asked.

“No, of course not, but I just…it would be fun to do that again, but with you, you know?” Sam asked.

They both fell into sleep before Dean could manage a coherent answer. But Sam knew if it was possible for them to fly together, Dean would bitch about it but then be completely into it. That was a nice picture to fall asleep to, the two of them flying next to one another, soaring through the clouds and a clear blue sky.

|~~^—^~~|

_Flying._

_Up above._

_Beat of wings in unison, beat of hearts in time, rhythm of the world turning beneath them._

_No fear, no worry, just the love of flying._

_Someone flies with him now._

_Partner, lover, a brother beside him._

_Turning in a wide arc through the clouds they soar._

_Following the spine of the low hills._

_Flying._

_Back home._

|~~^—^~~|

Sam was awake, which surprised him, he thought between reuniting with Dean and the dragon stuff he would be worn out. But apparently he was still on internal dragon-time, awake and pacing around the bunker like the world’s loneliest hatchling. He killed some time making tea in the kitchen and then stumbled back down the hall to Dean’s room. (Or was it their room now? That was a question for the morning maybe.) He sat at Dean’s desk and was adding some whiskey to his tea in the hopes of maybe getting a few more hours of sleep when he saw his name written plainly on an envelope in Dean’s writing. 

He opened the envelope quietly, hoping Dean didn’t wake up for whatever this thing was, and the familiar pictures fluttered down onto the desk one by one. A young Dean and Mom, Dean holding him as a baby with Mom hugging them both stared up at him from the desk. He unfolded the binder paper and read the just-in-case letter Dean had left for him. A couple of tears fell onto the page blurring the ink before he wiped his eyes. 

He stared across the room at his brother’s sleeping form, grateful all over again that he had a brother like Dean. Someone who was so damn stubborn he wouldn’t even give up when he’d been turned into a dragon. As much as his dragon-self wanted to hoard this gem of pure loving emotion, he knew that he needed to even the chick-flick scales somehow, so he pulled out a notepad and pen and started to write.

_Dear Dean,_

_I can never say thank you enough for coming after me. If you hadn’t risked everything for me (again!) I’d still be a damn dragon. As fun as it was to fly, the whole time I was missing you, and home. What we have here together, or really anywhere we are, is the only thing that was left inside me. It was like a fixed compass point, it’s what drew me to the caves near here. I couldn’t ignore the pull to be near you, even as a dragon._

_I read the ‘just in case’ letter you left me, and I’m sitting here while you’re sleeping in our bed. You’re so damn beautiful when you’re asleep, Dean, sometimes I just watch you. I know that you’ll say that’s creepy as hell and maybe it is, but it’s true, you are beautiful. And to answer your confession which I know we can’t say out loud (why is that again?):_

_I love you, Dean, you’re the reason I’m still here and human. Our life together, no matter whether you’re in my bed or not, is the only thing left worth living for._

_Love, Sam_

Sam slowly tore the page from the pad and folded it into thirds, slipping it into Dean’s desk drawer with the photos on top of it. Dean could read it at some point in the near future and get a good mushy surprise.

“You comin’ back to bed, makin’ me breakfast or what?” Dean asked.

Sam was so surprised he almost dropped his tea mug, but steadied himself and turned to face his brother. “I was just finishing my tea.”

He stood and dropped the robe on the floor and climbed back into the warmth of his brother’s arms where he belonged. The comfort of it washed over him and he hummed with happiness. They were quiet for a while drifting in and out of a light dozing sleep.

“I wonder if we’ll still have flying dreams,” Dean whispered.

“If I do, I’m not going to be a dragon, that’s for damn sure.”

“You did have an awfully nice tail there,” Dean teased, slapping Sam lightly on his ass where the tail had been.

“What about my wings?” Sam asked, glad they could already joke about the whole thing.

“They were cool too, but I could have done without the claws.”

Sam dug his fingernails into Dean’s hip, scratching him gently. Dean chuckled and settled down into sleep again. Sam watched his brother’s face relax bit by bit, marveling again at his luck. That he got to have this again, improbable and inevitable, that was their life together. He sleepily gave up thanks to any and all deities that were listening and fell into a dreamless sleep. Thankful to no longer be a dragon, just a brother, a hunter, and a lover once again.


End file.
